


in a blink

by Rehearsal_Dweller



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Dad!Donald, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-16 18:34:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21275807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rehearsal_Dweller/pseuds/Rehearsal_Dweller
Summary: Donald would give anything to protect his kids.





	in a blink

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted on tumblr: _This is going to sounds ridiculous, but could I prompt you to... write about Donald disappearing right in front of his family? I got to read fics about the kids being sad about Della, but now I’m looking for them being frantic about their dad. I’m in a sad kids want their dad back kind of mood..._  
it's not ridiculous, my pal. It's been a while since I wrote some nice sad fic! So here we go...  
Major Character Death may or may not be a death (even I haven't quite decided) but I thought I should warn for it because they're definitely grieving afterwards.

“Hu, Webs, look out!”

Huey didn’t even have time to process what was happening before Uncle Donald slammed into him, throwing him and Webby to the ground. A beam of crackling light skimmed past behind them. But as soon as it had come, the weight of his uncle disappeared, as he rolled off of the kids and pushed back up onto his feet. However as soon as Donald stood up, another beam shot through the air, this one zapping Donald directly in the chest. 

He had just enough time to make eye contact with Huey before he vanished into thin air.

No one else saw it happen.

The rest was a blur for Huey; all he knew was that Donald was gone. He hadn’t moved from the spot on the floor where he and Webby had landed. Vaguely, he was aware that she was still with him, just beyond his shoulder. She was still taking shaky, gasping breaths even as Della ran to them, dropping to her knees and skidding up to them.

Huey let his mother pull him close to her, caressing his cheek and checking him for injuries. He didn’t struggle against her, but didn’t lean into it, didn’t help her, didn’t speak to her either. He heard his brother’s voice, like a distant echo. 

“Where’s Uncle Donald?”

Webby dissolved into tears at the words. She slumped forward against Huey, shaking. 

“Webby?” Dewey said, falling next to them. “Webby, what happened?”

“He’s gone. Donald’s - Donald’s gone,” Webby told him, speaking into Huey’s shoulder. 

“It got him?” Louie’s voice was small, distant. 

Huey nodded minutely. He still felt dazed and shaken, but things were starting to come a little further into focus. Della made a choked sound, then pressed her forehead against Huey’s. He felt hot tears drip onto his beak, not his own. They sat like this for a while, not moving. 

“We should go,” Scrooge said. “We can’t stay here any longer.”

Della stood up. Webby pulled away, leaning into Dewey. When Huey didn’t move, Scrooge scooped him up, one arm around his back and one under his knees. 

And then they were home and Launchpad was asking “What happened?” and “Where’s Donald?” and “What’s wrong with the kids?” like the answer wasn’t the same for all three questions. Not that Launchpad, who hadn’t come along on this adventure in favour of hanging out with Drake and Gosalyn and doing normal family stuff for a change, could possibly have known. 

Della did what she could, but what she could wasn’t _much_. Not for lack of trying but because she was hurting too and she didn’t know how to help the boys despite it.

They didn’t go to school that week. Mrs Beakley didn’t teach them at home. The whole mansion felt cold and empty and quiet. 

Huey spent a lot of time sprawled on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Trying to clear his head of the image of Donald fading away. Dewey and Webby were subdued, both moving through the mansion without their usual energy and volume. 

Louie couldn’t sit still. His phone, his tablet, their computer, the tv all went untouched, because he wasn’t in one room long enough to use them. He paced the entire mansion, always circling back to the houseboat outside. 

After six days of this aimless, broken drifting, Dewey stomped into Scrooge’s office, Louie and Webby on his heels. “We have to find Uncle Donald.”

“I don’t know if we _can_,” Scrooge replied, “he may not be anywhere at all.”

“We have to _try_.” Dewey’s arms were crossed. Louie’s hands were shoved deep into the pocket of his sweatshirt, but instead of his usual look of vague indifference, he wore a determined expression. Webby looked haunted. 

Huey crept into the room behind his siblings, unnoticed by Scrooge until he started to speak softly. “Please, Uncle Scrooge. We _have_ to try. He’s our dad. We can’t just leave him.”

Scrooge sighed. “Then we’ll try.”


End file.
